Decode
by leetantanto
Summary: "There was nothing that ever struck so much fear and horror into England's heart as watching his best friend America being shot." England painfully recalls America's secession when an international war breaks out. USxUK, hints of asakiku.
1. Carelessness and Humility

_  
There was nothing in Arthur Kirkland's life that ever struck so much fear and horror into his heart as watching his best friend- his little brother, Alfred Jones, being shot.  
The loud peppering of bullets and the seizure they caused as they ripped through his strong chest. The spray of blood. The splash and thud as he fell to the ground, the mud slowly becoming red as America's blood dyed it.  
Perhaps he'd never heard himself scream so loud or so painfully. Perhaps he'd never wept nor pleaded so desperately.  
But he'd never felt more anguished, more regretting than he did then, watching the light fade from Alfred's bright blue American eyes.  
Please, please live. Let me take it back. I'll do anything, oh god, no.  
Fuck, no.  
_

It had all started with mundane arguments.  
"That's it. It's clear none of you have the capability to stop fighting long enough to speak rationally, let along discuss possible diplomacy," said the exasperated German, slumping in his seat at the large round table.  
The other seats of this table were occupied by the other world leaders, Russia, Japan, China, America, Italy, England and France.  
Oil had been struck in a third world country, and it was the intentions of the people at this table to each be the country harvesting it and making money.  
No one would share, and they couldn't come to a civil agreement.

"Does that mean we can go to war with you Axis?" asked Russia, calmly stroking a metal pipe in his lap.  
"Je suis d'accord! Certainly if the Allies defeat the Axis, we can have higher chance of coming to a conclusion between ourselves," said France, eating a delicate cake.  
China looked across the circular table at them solemnly.  
"In the grief of this unending world, why must we fight?"

Japan nodded. "I agree. It does no one any good. The fighting will continue even if you defeat Axis, the Allies can't get along with each other anyway. You know that won't solve the problem."  
"I don't wanna fight…" came Italy's sleepy voice. "We should all come to Germany's house and have some pasta. Peace pasta."  
The muscular blonde did not find this to his tastes one bit, but kept his opinions to himself.

Arthur Kirkland's mood was growing darker with each passing moment. Finally he decided to speak up.  
"Hold on a tic. I'm not siding with the bloody Allies or the Axis! I look to the needs of my own country and Britain needs no one. Splendid isolation is what I've got! Haha. I don't need that hamburger-munching dunce America. And I especially don't need you, France, you wanker." He glared at the effeminate blonde man across the table.  
France scoffed, looking affronted.  
"Mon dieu."  
"Ah, Iggy, you wouldn't last a moment by yourself!" said America. "The amount of times I've kicked your sorry ass in battle! Ahahah! Iggy, you're real weak."  
England puffed his chest out slightly. "I beg your pardon? Do you know you're talking to a former pirate?" He grit his teeth. "Not to mention, what appalling speech. 'Real weak.'"  
"Wha? You're a tiny little country, Iggy. You need help or you'll be smushed."

France pointed a finger at him. "A punk! That's what you are, England! Acting so gentlemanly all the time but you're just a troublemaker, honhon! A no good drunkard punk who's all bark but no bite!"  
He proceeded to laugh pompously.

England gave him the finger, then glared across the table at the country he'd raised.

America, blonde hair and blue eyes, staring at him with a determined grin. Those unseemly clothes. All that awful junk food. That one strand of hair that would never stay down, Nantucket.

He'd gotten so tall.  
_"The amount of times I've kicked your sorry ass in battle."_  
England remembered all too well. Nostalgia throbbed unexpectedly in his chest.

_"There's no way I can shoot you. I can't….Why? Damn it, why? It's not fair!"  
"England…you used to be so… big…"_

Damn it, why did he have to think of that right now? The thought made his eyes well up everytime.

The way Alfred leaned across the table like that made him look even bigger. Arthur felt intimidated.  
"Why is no one listening to my awesome suggestions? I said, guys. I said. We should just BUILD A HERO. And have HIM sort out our problems. A giant problem-solving robot. Hey Japan, reckon ya could make one?" America shoved his hamburger in his mouth and took a long sip of his soft drink.

The rest of the summit all erupted into argument.  
America continued uninterrupted.  
"Meanwhile, Iggy, you and I will team up. If there's gonna be a war, you need someone to protect you, and because I'm epic, I'm the one to do it. I'm number one, after all. Ah! I'm a genius! I know the answer to our problem!"

Everyone looked up expectantly.  
"Just give ME all of the oil, because I'm number one!" He grinned triumphantly, and the arguing broke out once again.  
"Maybe I AM a problem-solving robot! The strongest country, the coolest, the bestest, it only makes sense that I—" America's bragging went on and on for a good few minutes before a teacup suddenly hit him in the head.

England stood up, pointing a finger at him.  
"You're a damned idiot, America!" he said loudly, his green eyes glaring dangerously.  
"It's idiocy and ignorance like yours that got us into the whole bloody mess! For fuck's sake, I thought I taught you better!"

America blinked, slowly putting down his drink.  
"….England. I was just offering help. Offering, y'know, to help everyone. To help you," he said in a quiet tone. "..Because England is small, and you could use a big country like me to protect you, and be your ally if there is ever a war.."

England bared his teeth. "YOU. Protect me! Don't make me laugh. I already said, I don't need anyone's help, especially yours! God damn you, acting so tough. I'm the one who has always protected you, and you're no country!"  
The room had gone deathly silent.  
"I….I won't ever accept you as a country, you bastard! Y-you're my colony…J-just shut up and go back to your fucking hamburgers. Fuck."  
A high blush had risen on his cheeks.  
"E..England," America murmured, and for a second, he looked hurt. Then he put his hands on his hips.  
"Ha! Haha! We'll see how long you last in a war by yourself! Like I said, you couldn't hurt a fly. See who will help you while your enemies walk all over you!" America glared across the table at him.  
The inhabitants of the room remained stunned.  
"But don't ask America for help, no. Because this COUNTRY will be one of them!"

England's eyes widened.  
He took a deep breath, ready to start shouting again when he felt a hand grip his arm.  
"Mr. E-england," Japan murmured politely, "let's go and get some fresh air, ne?"

He escorted the pale-faced England from the summit room.  
"Now what…was all that?" Germany asked once the door closed.

"I assume America carelessly touched on a nerve of England's. They have an oh so tragic history together~" said France.  
"Shut up," said Alfred now, putting his food down on the table unhappily.

"Well," said Russia, standing up, "guess that means we're going to war, da?"  
Germany pinched the bridge of his nose tiredly while Italy slumped against him.  
"Hghn..but Germany will protect me," he said, shutting his eyes and going to sleep. "I'll make lots and lots of white flags though…Ve…"

Germany sighed, looking at them all.  
"I can't believe I'm saying this, but—"  
"Italy doesn't want the fighting. Italy is not going to fight."  
"Veneciano…if only it were that easy…"

Merely refusing to take part in fighting didn't make the destruction and death stay away. The same way that shutting your eyes and saying "if I can't see them, they can't see me!" did not stop the bogeyman from finding you.

America stood up. "I'll fight. I'm definitely fighting that damned England. What the hell's his problem anyway?"  
"Russia does not even need oil, but I will enjoy the fighting anyway," the large man said, leaving promptly.

And thus, the world nations went to war.

Within the month, Arthur Kirkland found himself on the battlefield. He and his army were camped out for the night in their tents. He'd defeated the French, who had withdrawn yesterday with a note saying, "We never needed the oil anyway, Angleterre. 3"

England relished this victory, hell, the French were currently aligned with the Russians, but tomorrow he had many strong foes and it would not be easy.  
He was not so well.  
His men were growing sick and wounded. They needed rest, but the battle around them did not wait.

He had been attempting to sleep, bunked down tight with his blankets and coats in a vie to stay warm when he heard a soft voice.  
"M..Mr. England..?"

Arthur's green eyes opened upon the one man he might consider his friend. Kiku Honda, Japan.

Germany and Russia were at the moment neutral to each other, almost allied. Japan had claimed a victory in battle against Russia, currently, resulting in a ceasefire, but was presently facing rioting in his own people.  
America had pressured Japan into an alliance for now.

"Ja-Japan..friggin…wuttimesit?" he mumbled.  
"I've come to make a request of you," the short Asian man replied formally. England sat up, meeting his eyes irritably.  
"What? Bloody hell."  
"….T-tomorrow, you're fighting Germany, Russia and America. I must implore you...Please attempt to make your peace with America, tonight. You need an ally here, and he's your best bet. Germany and Russia are incredibly strong."  
"You think I need protection too?" England snapped. "Go away. What I need is sleep." It was so cold, he could see his breath forming mist. He was tired, sore and hungry.

"Mr. England," Japan said firmly. "I'm your friend. Listen to me. You're on your own at the moment.  
I am concerned for you, and I would help you if I could, but I cannot. Yao—China, upon entering the war, has unexpectedly turned on me. He is also allied with Russia, and I am heavily pressured by my own troops to withdraw. I cannot currently assist, but on the other hand America is strong."  
England scowled at this.  
"Sod off."  
Japan took him by the shoulders.  
" And with the neutrality between Germany and Russia, it is just perhaps that America….could use your help."

Arthur was silent for a moment, swinging his legs over the side of his bed and going to make Japan a cup of tea, ever the gentleman.  
"America….does not want my help. That's the reason he seceded from me. He wants to be independent. In his own words…He is not my little brother..anymore."

He felt his fists clenching up as he recalled _that day_ once more.

Japan took the tea from him with a polite bow.  
"….Mr. England. ….Arthur. He needs you. And you need him. Make things right again. You never know what could happen."  
England brushed his hand away quickly.  
"What would you know?" he asked snappily.  
Japan met him with stern brown eyes.  
"I was raised by China in the very same way you raised America. And I…broke away to become my own nation. Although China's body still bears the scars of that betrayal, and though I know he may never forgive me….I still care deeply for him. Being raised by him….You don't forget that kind of thing. I know America still cares for you. It's never too late."

England shifted uncomfortably.  
"….Y-you really think…" He looked up. "No! Bugger off. That bloody wanker'll just rub it in my face. 'I knew you'd need my awesome help, Iggy! After all, I'm the HERO! Bahahaha. Munchmunch.' Fuck it," England snapped, turning away.  
There was a silence.  
"…For people we love, Arth—"  
"Fuck! Fine, I'll friggin do it. Don't lecture me." He knew he needed help. That was undeniable.  
Japan touched his shoulder once more, causing England's green eyes to curiously slide to him.  
"…Don't let that tsundere attitude wreck it for you."  
"Whatever the frig that is," England mumbled. Japan was slightly red in the face. They'd become quite close.  
"Good luck, friend."

That was how England found himself crossing over to the American encampment and locating Alfred's own tent.  
He had his hood on as he entered.  
America was sitting at a desk, with a map set out on the surface. There was a compass in one hand, and a hamburger in the other.  
The light shone onto his glasses and he looked quite solemn.

"A…America.." England mumbled quietly. Alfred looked up.  
"England!" He stood up while England lowered his hood.  
"…What are you _doing_ here? We go to battle tomorrow!" His hand moved to the handgun in his pocket.  
England made a 'tch' sound, seeing this.

"For christ's sake I'm not going to attack you," he said irritably, his stomach growling as he spoke. "…" America's suspicious expression softened.  
"….You hungry, Iggy?"  
"That's not why I'm here!" Arthur snapped, folding his arms. "I…uhm…I have something I need to say.."  
America met his eyes. "….Oh? Wassat?"  
England straightened his suit out, fidgeting anxiously.

"I wanted, um….to say…" America stood close to him, and England had to look up at him.  
Daunting.  
He was smaller than America. That fact was ever so obvious to him now.

"…That I…" Even thinking the words got him emotional so quickly. "…I….." Damn it, his throat had seized up. He stared at the floor, his deep green eyes brimming with tears.  
"England, what's wrong?" Alfred took a step closer.

"Fuck…." Arthur mumbled, realizing to his horror that he was practically crying. The words he'd wanted to say, the mere thought of them, of finally saying them, wound him up like this.

"Fuck!" he cried, brushing at his eyes furiously. "You're friggin right, aren't you? You….you bastard.." he said, his pain converting to anger quickly.  
"Hey, c'mon, Iggy-"  
"Bloody hell, you must feel on top of the world. You must feel like you're rubbing my face in the mud all the time, with your refusal to wear suits, your messy hair, your junk food and your attitude and frigging everything! Everything I always spoke against."  
"England—"  
"That's right, Alfred. You've got power over England, don't you, such power! I can't even come here and fucking talk with you, I can't apologize, I can't ask for your help, because it's impossible. "  
America swallowed. "….E-"  
"You feel proud? Hm? Look what you've reduced me to! And it must be so pleasing! Haha! So funny seeing England—"

Arthur felt Alfred's strong hand striking him across the jaw and he fell backwards slightly, a little stunned.  
"I don't know what you're trying to say, England. Not one bit! If all you've come to do is have another go at me about seceding you all those years ago, I've got some better things to do, alright? J-just get out."  
England touched the burning area on his face, then looked weakly up at the man. America looked _angry_, properly angry.

"You fuck. Can't believe I thought you had something civil to say."  
England blinked. Since when was America interested in talking civil?  
"I did, until I saw your face and it pissed me off," he mumbled lamely. America shoved him.  
"You're right though. You do look pretty pathetic. Now get out. I'll see you tomorrow on the battle field."  
"I'll defeat you like you've never been defeated before! I'll make you British America!" England shouted. America shot a scowl at him.  
"I'll never be your damn colony again! Never!" the spectacled man shouted at him.  
"I'll crush you and make you mine once again!" England cried, his fists clenching.  
"You're weak, England! You've always been weak, always!"  
England leapt at America, throwing punches at him and together they fell down into the mud, shouting obscenities and such.  
"America, you idiot!"  
"You're the one making a big deal out of stuff that's in the past!" One heavy blow of America's knocked poor England to the mud.  
"You said we'd always stay together, you fuck!" he said, tears overwhelming him. "I wanted you to stay with me forever!"

He bowed his head, weeping. Alfred's eyes widened.  
"…Arthur…" he said quietly. England stood up.  
" Bloody…git…America.." He suddenly felt arms around him, the taller man embracing him gently.

England only felt smaller and smaller. It seemed like yesterday that he could just bend down and scoop up the boy in his arms.  
He wasn't the best parent in the world, but he had tried his best.  
He was just so happy to have someone that cared for him, that looked up to him.  
America's arms grew tighter around him and England continued to cry.

"Please….America. Please be mine again.." he whispered desperately.

There was a long silence. "I can't, England. I can never be your….your.." His voice had gone tight.  
"You can't even be my brother?…"  
There was a long silence. America didn't reply.  
"When did you start hating me..?" green-eyed England whispered.  
"No, England. I don't hate y—"  
England slapped him away.  
"F-fine…. Fine!" he said in a wavering voice, turning away and stumbling numbly through the camp until he reached his own.  
TBC


	2. Stargazer

By the time he returned back, he'd already stopped his tears.  
Damned America. _Damn him._

Was that really how it was then? It appeared Alfred Jones had broken away from a lot more than just England himself. All those feelings of love and brotherhood had been tossed away by him too.  
Was that him proving his independence?

Arthur wondered then…He himself felt little emotion towards anyone, and he was quite independent. Isolated, they called it.

But it was splendid by no means.

Arthur Kirkland climbed back into his bed feeling colder than ever. All his wounds ached, he was starving. And worst of all, he felt broken now.

The next day he launched a pre-emptive strike on the Russians.  
Logic deduced that by taking down the strongest opponent, the other enemies would be weak, disorganised, easier to kill.  
"Haha, they'll all run away!" Arthur said to the man beside him as he chewed on a bland scone, mentally noting how much better it would be with jam, or at least some cream.  
"Like dogs, they will, subordinate. You wait. Once Russia is down, Germany will have nothing!"

England projected his anger from last night's meeting through harsh battle tactics.  
Many hours went by, and though Germany did rise to defend Russia, he was preoccupied by the Americans, and though China had the same interests, Japan fought fiercely to keep him distracted.

Arthur's anger at having his request…no, his plea…casually rejected by Alfred...He used it to his advantage, attacking with sincere passion.  
Russia was the only country overtly interested in fighting, so their enjoyment of the activity was matched.

Alas, the Russians were stronger than the English in many ways, and the battle turned in the Soviet's favour.  
It happened that an unexpected elbow came out of nowhere, striking the Englishman hard in the cheek.

Arthur stumbled back, stunned, and his eyes opened on a Russian gun millimetres from his forehead.

"Shit…" He slid onto one knee. "Least it wasn't that bloody America…"  
Ivan Braginski stared down at him with a bemused expression.  
"Come on, England. Get up. It's too easy if you're down like that."  
England laughed painfully, struggling up to his feet, when Russia kicked him hard in the jaw. He fell back into the mud.  
"Just kidding!" Russia said calmly with a sadistic smile. "You look better down there, writhing in the mud like a worm."  
England grit his teeth, staring down the barrel of the gun.

Death- - any second - - are these my last moments?—Oh god—Death—gun—  
"Go on," pressed Russia in a musing voice, "Cry, beg me not to shoot. It makes everything so much more fun."  
England shivered fearfully, and Russia kicked him once more, causing him to cry out.  
"Haha, that's right!"

The blonde coughed up blood on the wet ground, the distress getting to him.  
"There we are!" delighted the Russian, pressing his boot against the back of England's head, crushing him further into the mud.  
"Aa…!" Arthur could feel blood running from his nose.  
"What's that? Beg me for mercy?"  
"A..ame..."  
Somewhere within the pain he felt the familiar sensation of tears burning his eyes.

Then he heard the sound of the gun cocking against his skull. Russia's laughing became louder as the moment grew ever more intense.  
"Look at little England now!" Russia gloated.  
"A—ameri—nh…"  
"He's pissing himself, oh god, this is too good!"  
England shut his eyes tight, his breathing hitching.  
"Oh…F-fuck..just fucking shoo—"

Gunfire, and suddenly Russia had fallen to the ground, blood spreading across his thigh.  
His cry pierced the smoky skies.

England looked to the side, wide-eyed. Who had shot Russia? He sat up quickly, scrambling away from him and pulling his own gun out.  
"Yo, Igirisu~"  
England looked up at the man standing a short distance away, his handgun aimed expertly at Russia.  
"Alfred.." he murmured, a little shaken.  
America cast a glance at him, and he looked away. Ivan Braginski's pale outfit was dyed a deep red in his blood, and the stain only continued to spread.

Arthur moved further away while Alfred coolly strode up to Ivan and pressed his weapon to his temple.  
"Withdraw now dude, or I'll shoot you, and the entire Russian military will have to surrender."

The wounded man grit his teeth at them and hesitantly called for medical assistance via radio.  
America faced England now.  
"…Damn, you're a bit of a mess, man. Come on. You don't look good at all, on your knees."  
Arthur ascertained he was indeed a mess now as he attempted for a second time to get to his feet. Alfred assisted him, looking over the man tersely as he rose to his full height.

"Are you going to shoot me? " England asked, drawing his gun out.

Alfred didn't respond. England wiped some of the mud and blood off his face and out of his eyes.  
"Now, tell me. I've had enough of people trying to draw out my death."  
He forced his voice to be firm now in light of his recent indiscretion.

A few medics came bearing a stretcher for the Russian man and hurriedly carried him away.

Alfred turned to the Briton.  
"I won't fight you like this. I'm not your colony, I'm not beneath you, but I am your equal. So we're gonna fight as equals, after you've had some rest."

England shifted uncomfortably. "….I-I see….Can't very well fight in this state," he mumbled, adjusting his tie awkwardly.  
"A-America…thankyou…for that. I've no doubt he would have killed me if you hadn't come."

Alfred touched a hand to his shoulder.  
"You called, didn't you, Iggy?" He flashed a grin, adjusting his glasses.  
"….You called for the hero, right? I heard ya."  
Arthur smiled. "Bloody git."

America turned and took a few steps away through the mud.  
"I'll see you tomorrow, right here, man."

Arthur stared at the mud for a while. Alfred considered Arthur his equal?

He took a deep breath. "America…I….I still want…I still want you back."  
He wanted some part of America to be his once more.  
Alfred looked at him morosely. "Please, England…not this aga—"  
"I know you saved my life, and I am very grateful. But I'm not going to back down and forget about the one reason I'm really fighting. I'm fighting so we can be together once more!"  
"For fuck's sake, England, I'm no colony of yours! Why can't you accept that I'm not a child anymore? I'm my own country!"  
"Because I—I don't think you're a child, I just can't – I need you—your help!—"

Suddenly a grenade exploded nearby and they had to hit the ground in an attempt to avoid shrapnel.

Once it was clear, he jumped to his feet and ran from America, ignoring his calls.

See America as a child? That had changed, long ago. He had watched America become a man before his eyes.  
England stripped from his soiled uniform and donned a clean one. As a medic tended to his wounds, he found his thoughts wandering.  
America was an adult. A strong, independent adult.

He bowed his head slightly. America was not a British colony any longer, had not been for a long time, and who was England to take away his freedom and independence? Force him under British rule?

America had not only stirred up memories inside England that day at the summit, but emotions too, hidden under the sedimentary layers of bitterness, cynicism and resentment.  
These feelings consumed his thoughts now. He…he wanted Alfred back. He missed him.

Arthur sipped at his tea desolately. Alfred was no child, he was a man, and Arthur saw him as one.

A man, and a proud, strong, confident country.

Alfred Jones, the United States of America.

The next day consisted of pouring rain since daybreak. Absolutely no one was keen to battle in the deplorable weather, but they had to nevertheless.  
America's army attacked the English at midday.  
It had been a horrendous several hours of fighting after that, and England was starting to accept he was fighting a battle he couldn't win. It had only been the American military, but they had beaten back the weak, tired Englishmen.

Arthur slumped in his trench, barely able to keep standing, when he saw several of his troops making their way through the trench towards him.  
He raised a hand in greeting, when to his horror, a grenade flew over the wall and landed before them. They scattered but it was too late, and England shut his eyes tight so he didn't have to see the bloodshed.  
"Damn it.." He had to call it off- no. No, calling it off was not an option.  
He had to _surrender_ to America.

England knew it. America really had walked right over him, and he had barely any men left. He was injured badly, his gun shook in his gloved hands.

He was discovered very quickly after leaving the trenches by a squad of American troops. He said he surrendered, but they beat him to the ground nevertheless. It didn't matter; he couldn't get any wetter or filthier than he already felt. They stripped him of weapons while America was summoned.

Within a few tense minutes, his tall form appeared in the distance, barely visible due to the heavy-falling rain.  
England wanted to stare at the ground shamefacedly, contritely, but he forced himself to meet America's gaze as he drew closer.

That American accent cut clear through the unending pounding of rain hitting earth.  
"Surrender suits you now, does it?"

England's blonde hair dripped rain into his eyes and he pushed a hand through, combing it back, and remaining silent.  
"Now that I've defeated most of your troops, your supplies are low and you're practically fainting, now you want surrender? Damn it, England. You've had ample opportunity to ask for my help, plenty chances to side with me, as my equal, and stop this fighting. Now you have no choice. I've beaten you."  
Arthur sniffed slightly. "I…you don't have to…rub it in, you prat..." he mumbled.

"I don't think you understand the situation here. America has beaten you. You can't fight anymore. What if I was compelled to make you American Britain?"  
England's eyes widened ever so slightly.  
"A-America, there's no need to be rash—"  
"How do you think it feels, being told by someone you used to be so close to that they want to crush you, and take away your freedom?"  
Now Arthur turned his gaze to the mud.  
"I..I know, Alfred…I understand that..Just…I was.."  
"Too proud? Too stubborn, Igirisu? Can't bear to see me as a man, a country?"

America was angry; England could hear it in every word he spoke.

The Briton looked up at him once more.  
"Yes, America. That is the case…I'm stubborn..and proud. So just how do you think I can bear seeing the only person who ever gave a damn about me breaking all these ties we once had, and becoming so much taller and stronger than me? You coldly killed all my men and you…you conquered me without a second thought."  
England's fists clenched and his voice tone continued to rise.  
"How the fuck do you think I feel, knowing you don't give a damn about me anymore? Knowing you don't care, I can't bring myself to ask for your help, though I need it, and I can't bring myself to ask for peace, though I desperately want it!"  
He looked away.

"After all, I don't think I could even bear to raise a gun at you..."

Alfred's expression changed from anger to sadness.  
"Break…ties…? I know we haven't been close for a long time, but you're the ignorant one out of us. I told you, we're equals. I see us as equals."  
He took England and pulled him close by the collar.  
"How could I forget my connection to you? You were the one who raised me, and of course I would have accepted peace if you asked for it!"  
"You expected me to cave in and ask for help, because you think me weak!"  
"I was angry, Arthur! For you refusing to accept me!"  
"You don't want a connection with me, you said so yourself!"

Tension grew even tighter between them, and they were right up in each other's faces.  
"I SAID, Arthur, I _said_…I can't be your brother."

Arthur's eyes filled with tears quickly. "Why, Alfred? Why not?"  
Alfred put a hand on his shoulder, loosening his grip on England's collar.

"Because the type of love I have for you is not suited for brothers….Arthur."

The words were almost drowned under the sound of the rain, but England heard them clearly.

"…Damn it… Your persistence and anger makes it so much harder….How do you think I could bear you seeing me as a child, a colony, an inferior person, when I feel that way? I- I want to be a bigger part of your life, Iggy, but it's hard when you think of me as your weak little brother!"

The American was also in tears now. "I want..to be…a very important person to you...Someone you respect too, someone you love, but…."

Arthur stepped forward. This was it. "Alfred, I see you as—"

A gunshot fired through the air.

You know how in movies, when someone is shot, they lay there, bleeding, but still have enough energy to talk for a minute? To deliver their true feelings or hear them delivered? It didn't happen that way this time.

More shots ripped through his body, manipulating him like a puppet.

America paused for only a second to watch the blood blooming across his shirt. His eyes widened ever so slightly before he crumpled.  
Arthur threw his arms around him, trying to hold him up.  
"Oh, no, no, fuck, no America!" The man was too heavy and he slipped from Arthur's grip to fall into the mud.

Arthur collapsed beside him, watching his own blood pooling across his clothes too.  
"No, fuck…America.." He leant closer to him as his vision grew blurry.

Alfred Jones stared with an empty gaze at the sky, rain continuing to soak his bloody body.  
"Oh god, please, please no! This can't be happening!" He grasped for the American's hand, which was weak and did not return his failing grip, and no matter how hard he tried, his eyes wouldn't stay open any longer.

Alfred, I see you as a country. A strong proud country, independent of Britannia. I- I see you as someone I love, but that love started to change when you became a man. The firm and confident man you are. I loved y-you…and then…then I was bloody in love with you, wasn't I?

Alfred….you..you've become a fine gentleman, haven't you?  
Fuck it…I'm proud of you, I've always been so damn proud of you…I always missed you, but I forgot eventually because I buried everything that ever hurt.

I buried you.  
You said we'd always be together, but I pushed you far away after you left, didn't I? I never gave you a second chance to be something else to me, something more.  
Right now, give me a chance.  
Please, someone…let me take all the bad things I said back. Give me a-another chance to tell him, oh, please, _please_!

_It's okay, England. We're stargazing._

Alfred Jones, the United States of America, and Arthur Kirkland, The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland.

-

It was not foreseen that the African countries would show a great deal of interest in the oil found on their continent, but it was so.  
The war between the great powers, Axis and Allies, petered out into small battles between the few interested great powers and the minor countries that comprised Africa. Russia paid both America and England reparations, and China and Japan made their peace together once Japan took his own advice and apologized to him.  
The Germans backed down quickly, and in no time at all war ended.

It was not foreseen by Arthur Kirkland that the spark of life would ever come back into Alfred's bright blue American eyes, not after the way they'd looked that day, still and glassy and wet and staring deep into the sky. Stargazing.

The whole thing seemed a lot worse than it was.

After the main bullet was removed from his spinal cord, Alfred began a slow recovery from his paralysis. They said he probably wouldn't walk again, but Arthur knew Alfred would not stand for such a thing.  
The Hero could not be confined to a wheelchair. He had to be up and strong, fighting for his dignity and his pride.

Arthur's rib wound was clean and healed up well, but America took a lot longer.

England took the second chance he'd been given, and gave it to America. Gave them the chance to become closer.

"See this star, Alfred?"  
The American beside him nodded, his eyes turned up to the sky once more. Only this time there was that strong spark of life within his eyes, illuminating and alluring as always.  
"Yeah. That one?" he asked, raising a weak hand to point at the large star.

Ah, how glad England had been for America that day he started to move his arms again. Arthur pulled the blanket around Alfred a little tighter.  
"That's part of a constellation called Orion's Belt. Look, you can see it kinda looks like a belt, don't you think?"  
"Just looks like a bunch of stars to me, Iggy."  
England smiled and ran a hand through his unruly hair.  
"You git, not appreciating the beauty of the stars."  
"Coming from you, who won't believe there are aliens out there and prefer to believe in pixies and unicorns and such." Slowly, Alfred moved a hamburger to his mouth and took a bite.

Arthur punched him playfully. "They say you're a bloody fool."  
"Oh, well Tony says you're a fuckin' limey, man," America replied, and Arthur leaned over to give him a kiss.  
"If by 'fucking limey' you mean absolutely invincible English gentleman, then yes, I am," Arthur replied, allowing Alfred to return the action.  
A calm and comfortable silence passed before America spoke up.

"Hey, hey Arthur…I have a constellation for you. If you look at that blue star over there," he said, pointing again, "that's the Hero star. The legend goes that there was this epic cool guy called the Hero, and he was always savin' everyone and being totally awesome all the time. Then he fell for the little star over there, called the Big Tea-Sipping Jerk, and they hung out forever."  
England raised an amused eyebrow while America talked animatedly. It was so good to see him smiling again.  
"That's not all. The Big Tea-Sipping Jerk was like the Hero's sidekick, and they went on so many cool and amazing journeys, and though sometimes they got into fights, they loved each other very much, and when they died they were given their own stars, right next to each other. Cos they were that cool. They're part of a constellation called the Super Awesome Constellation of Epicosity that's So Much Cooler than Some Lameass Belt."

He took a sip of his drink then while Arthur laughed.  
"That's really its name, is it?"  
"Pretty close," America replied, his fingers intertwining with Arthur's.  
"Well it's become apparent you're a complete dunce. Two stars can't form a constellation."  
"We can, man. Impossible things could happen when the Hero and the Big Tea-Sipping Jerk were together. Tremendous, amazing, impossible things. Because that's what we are. So they gave us a constellation."

Arthur turned to face Alfred then.  
"What kind of impossible things happened?" he asked quietly, and Alfred looked to his feet poking out from under the blankets. He wiggled his toes slightly.  
"These kind of things, Iggy." He sent a big goofy grin at the Briton, who could only smile back and embrace him.  
"I'm so glad," he uttered in a tight voice.  
"Hey, man. You cryin?"  
"No," Arthur replied quickly, burying his face in the blanket surrounding America. "I'm just glad you finally decided to get your feet to work, you lazy prat."  
America laughed, slowly getting his arm up around the Englishman.

"They should have called you the Big Sook, England," America said when he sat back.  
"They should have called you the Over-Confident Arrogant Hamburger-Shovelling Git," England replied quickly as he wiped at his eyes.  
"What a sucky name! That's way too long!"  
"Look who's talking." Arthur kissed him once more, and Alfred smiled.

"I don't make the names, Arthur. I just stargaze, and nothing bothers me if I can do that with you. I love you, man."  
Arthur scowled slightly. "Yeah. I- I..yeah. Loveyoutoo. Bastard."

"We'll have to talk to the Star-naming committee, Iggy."  
"I dare say we will."  
FIN


End file.
